Braininess is not attractive unless combined with some signs of elegance; class.

The stories are not autobiographical, but they're personal in that way. I seem to know only the things that I've learned. Probably some things through observation, but what I feel I know surely is personal.

I felt in him what women feel in men, something so tender, swollen, tyrannical, absurd; I would never take the consequences of interfering with it.

It almost seemed as if there must be some random and of course unfair thrift in the emotional housekeeping of the world, if the great happiness--however temporary, however flimsy--of one person could come out of the great unhappiness of another.

Speculation can be more gentle, can take its time, when it is not driven by desire.

Moments of kindness and reconciliation are worth having, even if the parting has to come sooner or later.

The images, the language, of pornography, and romance are alike; monotonous and mechanically seductive, quickly leading to despair.